Chapter Text
Introduction
Looking down at the faces of his new classmates, Sam Winchester began to feel uneasy. No matter how many times he did this, he could never shake the feeling that they were a pack of rabid wolves, that had the power to rip him to shreds and make a meal out of him if he ever attempted to rise above his place in the pack. No matter where he went, this was always how it was. High School, Sam thought, was exactly like a wolf pack. And he was an Omega to them at best, but sometimes, as he thought the case might be here, he was worse than that. He was dog chow.
Tell us about yourself. That was what his new teacher, Ms Gorton, had said, a greying, hag-like woman with a stern attitude and a wardrobe that seemed to be stuck in the late nineteenth century. But what could he say? What was there to him, apart from the ‘family business’, the crappy diner food, the long nights on the road, and God forbid, the endless moving around? And he could hardly tell them about that.
“Well, Sam?”
God, he hated this part. They just kept staring at him, like he was a prime porterhouse steak and they were men starved.
He rubbed the back of his head nervously.
”Not much to say, really. My Dad travels a lot for work, and me and my brother Dean go with him.” Sam paused. “I like soccer, I guess.”
“Anything else?” Ms Gorton looked at Sam disapprovingly, to which he shrugged and shook his head. “Very well. Please return to your seat, Mr Winchester.” The eyes followed him as he took the only available seat, which was, naturally, right in front of the bulky, thuggish boy who was without a doubt the packs alpha. Within half a minute of sitting down, he felt a spitball land on the back of his head with a sickening squelch. High school, he thought, really was hell.